Fagir felt pained and surprised; he had often heard the Christian padre[6] say that the religion of the Lord Jesus reached even to the thoughts and desires of the heart, but he had never till this time clearly perceived that covetousness is sin in itself, even if it lead to no open violation of the laws of God or of man. As if hoping by prayer to restore his robe to its former whiteness, Fagir now prostrated himself on his carpet, and repeated a long form of prayer. His lips moved, and a murmuring sound of prayer was heard; but even while he seemed to offer supplication and praise, the mind of Fagir was still fixed on the coveted field: he was thinking how he should persuade the orphan’s relatives that the ground was of little value, and how he should make the Sahib[7] regard it as worth at least seven hundred rupees. Every time that Fagir repeated the name of God—and very often did he utter the holy word in his prayer—there fell, as it were, an ink-drop upon the garment given by the angel. Suddenly Fagir perceived this, and started up from his knees.
“Can I sin even in the act of prayer?” Fagir exclaimed in dismay.
Then for an instant appeared on the border of the robe the words uttered by the Almighty Himself, amidst thunder and lightning, on Sinai,—Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain (Ex. xx. 7).
“I will think no more on this robe,” said Fagir, with bitterness; “if my thoughts be tainted with imperfection, my acts at least are blameless. It is enough if a man live righteously; he is not master of his own heart.” Here was at least an admission, and that from one of the proudest of men, that the heart has a root of bitterness in it that even the most righteous of mortals have no power in themselves to root up.
And now in the dream of Fagir it came to pass that, as he was about to quit his dwelling, a messenger arrived with a chit from Delhi. Fagir opened and read it, and then, turning towards his wife, he thus spake:—
“Kasiti, this note brings good tidings. Hosein, the head of my family, is coming from Delhi, and will abide for ten days in this city. We must receive him with great honour, for Hosein is a wealthy and distinguished man, much esteemed in the place where he dwells. There must be plentiful feasting here during the days of his sojourn; I will throw my doors wide open, and invite hundreds of persons from far and near to meet my kinsman.”
Kasiti mildly made reply,—“Oh! my lord, your salary is but one hundred and fifty rupees; whence, then, will you spread the table for hundreds of guests?”
“I will borrow what I need,” said Fagir.
“Oh! my lord,” said the gentle Kasiti, “the padre hath said in my hearing, that debt is as a chain, with which no servant of God should ever be bound.”